


Redemption, My Boy.

by you_name_it



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Bad Ending, Hurt No Comfort, I Don't Even Know, It Gets Worse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:40:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22392658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_name_it/pseuds/you_name_it
Summary: He knew it wouldn‘t work. He knewhewas beyond reason now. But Arthur had to try. He had to try one last time and make the mansee. All those years, all them losses along the way – it can‘t have been for nothing, it just can‘t.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Dutch van der Linde
Comments: 8
Kudos: 50





	Redemption, My Boy.

Air rattling in his lungs, Arthur makes his way through camp in one last attempt to make the man see reason. Even from a distance he can make out the closed flaps of the white tent in the back.  
That goddamn tent. There used to be a time when music and laughter came from within, when the flaps were constantly open and its resident welcomed one with open arms. Now... now that tent is a fucking fortress, keeping everyone at bay. 

Everyone except that _rat_. Micah seems to be the only one these days granted an audience with the almighty Dutch van der Linde. Only the king himself is refusing to see that his kingdom has long since gone. Long live the King. 

‘Dutch!‘ Arthur calls as he comes up to the walls of white fabric. ‘We need to talk!’

He doesn’t have to wait long until one flap is pushed aside and out step the King and his Fool. 

‘Get lost Micah. This is between me and Dutch.’ Micah glances at Dutch, who nods at him. Brushing past Arthur he puts a hand on his shoulder, lowering his voice so only he can hear, ‘Enjoy yourself. Might be the last time by the looks of you.’ He flashes a grin and leaves.

‘What. You dismissing my company now?’ Dutch demands, voice low and dangerous. 

‘Goddammit, Dutch. Just listen to me for once-- ‘ A coughing fit overtakes him and he bends over, specks of blood hitting the ground. 

Dutch is watching him with a calculating stare, not moving from his spot. ‘You alright there, son?’

_Son_. How that word grates at him now. This isn‘t going to work. God, what a mess. 

‘Alright, follow me.’ Dutch leads the way to the mount of the cave behind his tent. Still fighting to get his breathing under control, Arthur follows. 

Dutch doesn‘t stop once inside but leads them all the way to the back of the cave, where an opening brings a stream of sunlight from above. Dutch steps right into it and turns to face Arthur. The light glistens on his rings and even Arthur has to admit that he appears almost regal in this moment. Then he catches Dutch‘s expression. His eyes are burning with so much hate it makes Arthur stop in his stride. 

‘Let‘s hear it then.’ Low and clear, a warning. 

‘Dutch...’, Arthur slowly steps up to his former mentor, ‘Dutch, listen--’ 

The punch into his guts takes him by surprise and he crumbles to the ground. 

‘NO! You listen to me now, _boy_ ,’ Dutch‘s voice booms from above. ‘I‘ve had it with your constant complaining!’ A kick into his ribs sends Arthur into another coughing fit. ‘Your constant doubting!’ Another kick as Arthur tries to draw his knees up in protection. His lungs are screaming at him and every cough sends a new wave of searing pain through his body. His ribs. The bastard broke his ribs. 

‘Have you learned nothing, boy,’ Dutch spits at him. ‘All them years and you still don‘t get it. It is NOT your place to doubt me. KNOW YOUR GODDAMN PLACE!’ 

Dutch draws his gun on him.

So this is it then. This is how he‘s going to die. At the hands of the man he’d admired for so long, whom he’d aspired to become ever since he’d picked him off the streets all those years ago. What a damn fool he was… 

‘No famous last words?’ Dutch steps closer. 

‘Jus-,’ he takes a shaky breath, ‘Just do it.’

Dutch chuckles, ‘Oh no no no my boy. This ain't where you get to leave. This, son, will be my final lesson for you.’ 

Arthur howls as Dutch’s fingers dig into his broken ribs. Dark spots black out his vision and he blindly claws at the figure above him. His chest convulsing, he starts to retch and Dutch finally eases up.

‘There there, boy’, Dutch drawls and puts a hand on his back in mock sympathy. The retching turns into more coughs, leaving him breathless. ‘Fu- … fuck off!’ he tries to push him away but Dutch grabs his shoulder hard. He leans down to whisper into his ear. ‘You told me once, Arthur, that your father used to do … things to you.’ Arthur’s mind slowly catches up with what Dutch is implying. He stops moving. 

No no no no. Dutch knows what this did to him. All the nightmares, the screaming. He would never…

‘I was wondering…,’ Dutch leans back to look at him. 

‘Dutch, no.’ Arthur stares up at him, searching his face for a glimpse of sanity. 

Dutch backhands him hard. ‘No? The way I see it, _son_ , you will just have to _trust me_.’ And with that he pushes him back into the ground, straddling him and holding him down with one hand at his throat. 

Arthur starts to struggle in earnest. He claws at the grip and musters all his strength in an attempt to throw him off. That earns him another laugh. He has become so weak. 

One hand still at Arthur‘s throat, Dutch holsters his gun and grabs him tightly between his legs.  
Arthur‘s world staggers to a halt, he freezes. No. This can‘t be happening. 

When he came back to camp he was prepared for a fight. Hell, he even was prepared to die. But this? No. No he can‘t do this. Not again. Not with Dutch.

‘Please...,’ he all but whispers, ‘please just kill me.’ 

For a moment Dutch hesitates. Arthur thinks he catches a flicker of doubt in his eyes. Whatever it is he is not going to waste his chance. He rams his fist into the face above him. A sickening crunch of bone and Dutch rears back with a roar, blood gushing from his nose. 

Arthur scrambles out from under him, frantically trying to get his footing only to be tackled from behind. The brief struggle is ended by Dutch kneeing him between his legs. ‘Still got some fight in you I see,’ he spits. ‘For once, your wish shall be my command!’ Arthur, still blinking tears from his eyes, feels his throat close up as Dutch squeezes down. ‘That what you want, boy?’ he bellows. 

Over the ringing in his ears he hears Dutch unbuckling his belt.  
‘Shit...sto-p!’ Arthur desperately tries to get a hold of his gun. He’d never thought they’d cross that line but he would do it, so God help him. Dutch beats him to it. He grabs Arthur’s gun and flings it into the dark. 

Oh please God no… 

‘Fighting ‘till the end. Now that’s my boy!’ Dutch loosens his grip to drag him up by the collar of his shirt and slams him into the nearest wall. He can feel the onset of another bout of coughing while his mind is struggling to make sense of what is happening. Dutch turns him around, tearing at his pants and slams Arthur’s head into the wall once more for good measure. 

Dutch‘s ragged breathing mingled with Arthur‘s desperate gasps for air can be heard echoing from the walls.  
Dutch leans close, breathing into his ear. ‘This is it, son. The moment of your Redemption.’  
He pushes into him. Arthur’s vision goes white, he screams. 

‘Fuck,’ Dutch withdraws, spits into his hand and slicks himself up. ‘Can‘t have both of us bleeding by the end of it now can we.’ Arthur roars as he pushes back in. 

And then, as unconsciousness is threatening to overtake him, he sees it: The gleaming yellow eyes of a black wolf staring at him from the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> It's a sunny day and this happened. It's horrid, I'm sorry.   
> I'm obviously no native speaker … and no writer either… (one might ask what I'm doing here at all).
> 
> This just had to come out...


End file.
